


find a nest

by birdhymns



Series: run from what you knew [3]
Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8324740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdhymns/pseuds/birdhymns
Summary: However temporary an existence feels, there is always some matter to be handled within it.





	

Naturally the first potentials you consider are the researchers you work with. The professor picked them out, and in their files you find out a little about their histories, their accomplishments. But it doesn’t take long for more to start trickling in, Trainers from all walks of life.

You’re surprised, not really expecting anyone outside those involved somehow with studies. But they both come, the Trainers and the researchers.  And more often than not they bring their family and friends along; within a matter of days you’ve a sizable number of people under your banner. Thankfully the former are fairly hands free.

Emphasis on fairly.

You’re in the middle of thermal cycling a third batch of reaction tubes when the lab’s main doors open and a curious face pops into view. A Cubone trails closely behind. When they spot you they give a small wave. “Um, team leader?”

You motion for them to come closer, polite, practiced smile coming to your face instinctively. “Blanche is fine. You are?”

“Oh, I’m Morgan. They and their. I was wondering if you had a minute to look at him?” They motioned to the Cubone. “Just a general assessment, what you think.”

“Hm.” You crouch, eyeing him. To his credit, though he hides behind Morgan’s foot, he holds your gaze. That much was promising.

This you actually had been expecting, in part because of what you saw Candela and Spark do. And you know you can manage this. You’ve done it countless times before, and at this point, it was a matter of course for you, sizing up Pokémon as you saw them.

The real challenge for you now was how to word it.

Addressing the Cubone, you say, “Show me how you would fight?”

He glances at Morgan first before obliging you, whirling what looks like a broken radial bone with ease, mixing in a couple blocks. You nod. A matter of show, but it gives you time to think about your presentation. “His attack is… above average.”

Extending one hand to him, you wait for him to approach before you lift him onto the table, prodding him in a few places. It earns you what can only be described as a Cubone giggle. With a faint smile you scratch at the base of his skull. “His defense appears to be above the norm as well. However, it may be… difficult, for him to keep up with his fellow Cubone.”

The Cubone pulls away from your hand to look at you. You don’t bother trying to reach out again, gripping the table’s edge instead, glancing over to Morgan. Their expression is unreadable. It sets your heart to pounding, senses ready for the first sign of anger, hurt; the anxiety gnaws at your bones. “So, what you’re saying is he’s gonna have a tough time?”

“His growth will be slow. He may not be ideal for competitive battle.” It’s difficult keeping your face from settling into its standard frown. It’s not something you can truly _fix_ at this point, just regular thinking drawing a line between your eyebrows. It’s how your face is. You don’t normally care, but you’ve had more than one comment before. You try to explain your words, at least. “Forgive me if it came off harshly, I’m…. If you think me very clinical, you would not be first.”

You address them both as you speak, glancing between them. The Cubone understands your tone if nothing else, and takes a few steps closer to you, tapping your knuckles with his bone. Morgan flaps their hands in dismissal, seemingly of a similar mind. “It’s fine, it’s alright. I wouldn’t want any sugarcoating about it. Besides, it doesn’t mean he can’t fight.”

“Mm.” You still can’t shake the feeling that you’ve disappointed. The want for solitude rises up. “Were there any others you wanted me to look at?”

“No, just him.” They grin. “Of course, that might change tomorrow. I’m going to see who I can find tonight.” With a two-fingered salute they head to the door. “Later, lea–Blanche.”

When they leave your sight you give yourself a moment for your roiling emotions to sink down, where no physical reaction would manifest, falling back on logic as you review your actions. You could form your words on Spark’s and Candela’s assessments next time. Developing a standard set of answers would make any future inquiries easier to handle. And thinking on them ahead of time would give you the chance to refine them, keep them from acquiring too-sharp edges.

Your thoughts settle the ill feeling inside by a fraction, and you return to your work, intent on completion and a start to your newest task.

While Team Mystic grew and you remained as its leader, you would do your duty.

-

When your dream–it’s frustrating to you that you have no other way to refer to it, but simultaneously it rings well, that dream being something singular to you–comes again you don’t recognise it at first, stuck in your own body.

You make a list as you look around. Two hands, unfeathered. Two feet, decidedly human. A body stuck on unfamiliar ground, a snowy forest and a singular mountain behind you, the ocean before, and an island near the horizon. Perhaps it’s your imagination’s workings as you ‘see’, but you know it is not the only island nearby.

But even as you then contemplate it being a simple dream, you note the same clarity to the world that other dreams do not possess, and a faint sense of the power you normally have in your dreams of flight. A chill rising at your back, despite the thinness of your current attire, doesn’t bother you in the least.

You wait for a few minutes there, at the edge of land and ocean. But nothing comes. The water fills your ears with a low roar, the wind throws your hair into your face from behind, but that’s all.

You are alone.

And you are torn. Before, your dreams set you in motion ahead of your mind realising. Here there are too many paths, possibilities pulling in all directions and cancelling each other out. There’s the distinct sense of vulnerability this time too. You know your body’s limits, set starkly against the strength of the body that was yours-not-yours. The ocean might kill you. The forest and mountain might as well.

The gusts shift in this moment, and to your surprise, the breeze is not only full of salt but heat, and you take an instinctive step back, towards cold and snow–

–an anomaly, in this place.

You turn about, and keep moving forward. The mountain looms high above you.

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks for people's patience-I was eking out words for some time, but it was, in the end, a combination of lack of energy and meatlife (studies and such) taking over and making this particular part difficult... compared to other parts as well, there's less 'movement', so I became even more finicky about it.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. Next time, if all goes as planned, should be a little backstory, a little team leader interaction... hope for the best, hehe.
> 
> If you don't mind a dozen other things being tossed at you as well, you're free to come follow me on Tumblr (click through birdhymns to see). I ask for prompts on occasion, and those short responses are slowly filling box twelve (longer work, I'd consider more readily as a commis, heh) outside of the immediate scope of this fic, it'd be best to ask about it over there.


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